The Subtext
by icecreamlova
Summary: Newly minted Senator Leia Organa talks business with the Empress Vader and discovers her enigmatic conversation partner is far from the least of the Galactic Empire's many mysteries. A snapshot of a "What if...?" AU


**A/N: This is an AU that diverges long before this part of the story. Certain people will be alive though they died in canon. And I'm not just talking about the empress.**

**The Subtext  
**_By icecreamlova_

- : -

Leia is nervous. She doesn't show it even though she is alone, but beneath her mask Leia is torn between flying back to Coruscant this very instant and her duty to her people (and the secret Rebel Alliance) to meet with the Empress Vader.

She sits on one of the comfortable chairs in the Empress's parlor, gazing out at the panoramic view of multi-layered Coruscant. Coruscant's sun is a bright, fierce circle poised high above. Plasma globes shine wastefully on the walls anyway, probably from Naboo, where the Empress once ruled. Her heritage shows in the room's design, with its delicate plants and light colors. Leia doesn't want to admit it, but she's had time to examine the room, as the Empress has not yet arrived, and everything has been tastefully picked out.

Her gaze slides to the door, and she wonders briefly why their talk is going to be held here instead of the Empress' office. She could still leave; beg off with the excuse of another appointment.

Leia does not move.

A few moments later, the door slides open to admit the Empress Vader, a handmaiden and protocol droid behind her. Leia rises immediately, though it chafes her to bow to a tyrant.

"I'm sorry for the wait, Senator Organa," the Empress apologizes. "I was in a meeting. Please, sit." Her voice sounds throaty, a little flat, giving away no opinion. It is nothing like the inspirational undercurrent rippling through her speeches to the Senate -- perhaps, Leia thinks spitefully, the Empress lost that ability when she lost sight of the democracy she was supposed to represent.

Leia sinks back into her chair again. Her fingers brush the sleeves of her senatorial robes, with its rippling waterfall of white cloth. "It is not a problem, Empress. I just arrived."

"Would you care for refreshments?" the Empress invites, beckoning to her protocol droid. It is plated in gold, and gleaming as if recently oiled--what good use of her taxes!

Leia hides her outrage and smiles. "Alderaan Sparkling, please?"

"The same for me," orders the Empress. The handmaiden positions herself just out of hearing, by the door. The Empress waits until the protocol droid has gone, returned with their drinks, and then settled in the corner again, before turning to Leia.

A tiny frown creases the Empress's face as she takes Leia in. The Empress is a petite woman about Leia's height, with smooth locks of brown hair, dark eyes, and a relatively unlined face that still looks beautiful. She is in her forties and looks her age. Leia once heard her father remarking on the similarity in looks between Leia and the Empress; she retorted rather icily that she was nothing like that tyrant. The Empress is dressed formally, with rich colors and the subtle smoothness of expensive silk, but less lavishly and more tastefully than what Leia had been expecting from an Emperor's consort. Still, it's enough for Leia to both loathe and appreciate the simplicity of an Alderaan Senator's traditional robes.

The Empress is judging Leia the same way Leia is judging her, she knows, and she is careful not to show any chink in her armor. She waits politely for an opinion, whether expressed in word or action. Whatever the Empress thinks about Leia's young age, though, she keeps it to herself.

"I believe you are here on pressing business?" the Empress prompts. Her voice is expressionless, and with the momentary frown gone, Leia can read nothing off her.

"Yes, Empress--"

"Senator Organa," the Empress interrupts, "please call me--" there is a split-second pause, one that would pass by anyone not trained, like Leia is, to analyze every hesitation and the meaning of every word-- "Padmé."

If the Empress -- Padmé -- was trying to unbalance Leia, she has succeeded. Leia barely manages to keep her face still, as the part of her mind that was analyzing the meaning of the pause abruptly turns in a new direction.

"Then you must call me Leia," she requests smoothly, as if they were peers, and not, in terms of power, as different as a cat and mouse.

A strange look passes across Padmé's face, one that Leia catches but can't place. She reaches for a datapad from the stack that is lying on the transparisteel table beside her. Her sharp gaze fixes on Leia's attentively, and Leia has a strange feeling it's not just because of the speech she's about to make. "Leia, then. What is it you require?"

Leia switches on her datapad. "I was scanning over some of the accounts for the Office of Displaced People," she begins. "Alderaan, as you know, chairs the ODP's board. When I became the Senator and took a closer look I found inconsistencies in the transactions between several of the sectors."

Padmé pushes her glass of Alderaan Sparkling and datapad away and instead accepts the one Leia offers. Her eyes darken as she scans through what Leia has highlighted. If nothing else, the Empress has a sharp mind and makes connections quickly. All Senators -- those, at least, who have their home worlds as priorities -- know to go to her should they have a crisis separate from the military. Her husband represents the shadows, and everyone fears even mention of Emperor Darth Vader. He's a spook, a monster, a knife in the dark. Padmé though... Leia thinks: How far she has fallen. Instead of fighting for justice, she's models the imposter that took its place when the Galactic Empire formed. Or maybe, Padmé has always been a supporter of tyranny and her old opinions were a facade.

Leia knows the stories from her hours, even days, pouring over old HoloNet news clips and announcements, and the tales Bail Organa once whispered to her before she slept. Leia was raised as a politician, after all. She remembers the announcement the day Padmé Naberrie was elected Queen Amidala of Naboo, younger than Leia is now, and the bright future all were sure would come to her. Padmé's future is bright, all right; it's just dark for everyone else.

If Padmé had been in any other position than Empress, Leia might have thought her a fool, played perfectly by the previous Emperor -- Palpatine -- in order to elect him to the position of Chancellor. With the clarity of hindsight, the Senator Amidala would have seen that her outwardly "brilliant" move of replacing the spineless twit Valorum with Palpatine was what spelled the doom that came a decade later. Leia might have pitied Queen-turned-Senator for her guilt; she might have cheered on the speeches Padmé made about the constitution, the petition Padmé headed, even as her heart ached for what would come.

But Padmé is the Empress now, and from the delicate position she's made stable for herself, Leia knows she's no fool. Padmé survived the purges of senators loyal to the Republic, disappearing, though Leia suspects Bail was fooled to hiding her on Alderaan before Padmé's intentions became clear. The mechanisms by which Palpatine fell, when Leia was ten, reputation in tatters, dead by the hand of the current Emperor, has a political angle only a politician raised would be able to execute, and she's heard rumors that Emperor Vader was raised as one of the mythical Jedi; not a politician from any way. Immediately after Palpatine's right-hand man, Darth Vader, rose to the throne, Padmé reappeared, this time in the position of his consort. She appealed to the media by citing "changes", and though Leia admits that conditions have improved, it's a far cry from the glory of the Republic and the democracy it was.

Leia was young then, so young compared to now, but her mother was still alive and she remembers the stunned tears that Padmé's new position produced. Breha was so sick, so frail, and maybe the announcement of her old friend and ally changing sides pushed her over the edge. Leia returned from her visit to Coruscant in time to see Breha struggle through her last days, like the weight of the galaxy pressed on her delicate shoulders and crushed the life out of her. For that, Leia will always loathe the Empress Vader, from the bottom of her heart.

Still, Leia is a Senator now and personal matters cannot interfere with her job--either job. She waits for Padmé to evaluate all the problems she has highlighted.

"All the planets seem to be on the Corellian Trade Route," Padmé thinks out loud. A manicured finger taps her chin; she looks displeased. "I don't recognize half these taxes. Senator Organa--Leia," she looks up and corrects herself, "you think that the funds for the Office of Displaced People are being siphoned off for other projects?"

"That's it exactly, Padmé." Some part of Leia squirms at the knowledge she is breaking all tradition; most of her wonders how many people have the dubious honor of being so intimate with the Empress and delights that she, a "pampered princess", will be of use to the Rebel Alliance. "I had an imperial slicer try to track them down. His report is also on the datapad."

Padmé scans through the names, face darkening. She doesn't look surprised, and that outrages Leia: if she knew of the travesty, why hasn't she done something about it?

The Empress's eyes stop, and she stares intently at one of the names. "What in the--"

She falters, and draws in a deep breath.

"Your Highness?"

Leia's not as good as one of her friends, Luke Skywalker, at sensing emotions, but her political instinct tells her just as well that Padmé is struggling with something. And Luke's been explaining his lessons with Ben Kenobi every time he visits Alderaan, so she's been improving on that front as well.

"You have seen the slicer's report?" Padmé asks sharply.

"Yes, Padmé."

The Empress frowns. "You did not pass it to another slicer to check?"

"Of course I didn't." Leia struggles to keep the ice out of her tone at the outright accusation of incompetence; now is not the time. "I would have to go through several senators connected with the office, and any independent slicer is in danger of being bought."

"Has anyone else laid a hand on it?" the Empress presses.

"No, Your Highness," Leia answers, which is a lie, but Leia trusts her aide, Winter, with the lives of hundreds. Her annoyance is abated when something flashes across the Empress's face, too fast to catch, but she is not worried. She has done nothing wrong.

"I see," Padmé relents neutrally. She is about to add something, but there is a knock on the door. The handmaiden opens it and passes the datapad she receives from the caller she receives to Padmé. Leia can just see a flash of red light; it's important. The Empress reads it with a frown. "Excuse me," she says quietly to Leia, "I need to reply to this. Dormé."

Padmé rises and leaves the room in a sweep of dark blue silk, followed by her handmaiden. Leia is left to entertain herself, wondering whether she dares snoop into the Empress's datapads. Most are probably domestic issues but there might be a gem of information the Rebel Alliance will need--no, that droid, the gold-plated 3P0 protocol droid that hasn't moved at all since presenting their refreshments, is probably recording everything, so she can't.

When Padmé returns a few minutes later, Leia fancies she can see some sort of internal battle being played out. Looking into Padmé's eyes, Leia picks up on something she didn't notice before--some sort of feeling she can best name as being... hungry, like a black hole of want.

"If that is all?" she asks without preamble.

"Which report was it that caught your attention, Padmé?" Leia is surprised by her boldness and wonders for a split-second whether it was right to press.

Padmé watches her like a scientist would a critical experiment. "Twenty-six."

The number means nothing to Leia.

"Did nothing set it apart from the others?" asks the Empress. That closed quality is still present; too calm, too cool, too composed to be real. The hunger is no longer there; Leia wonders if she imagined it.

Leia shakes her head neutrally. Oddly, Leia feels like squirming under Padmé's intense scrutiny but glares back defiantly. And, Leia realizes with an uncomfortable jolt of lightning that sizzles up her spine, her father was right. Leia has seen those eyes before when she looked into the mirror, first when Breha passed away, then more and more often when she took an important role in the Rebel Alliance.

She hates it, but she does resemble Padmé, and in that moment she desperately desires nothing more than to never look at the Empress's face again.

As if Padmé heard her thoughts, the Empress rises from her seat. She takes a few short steps to stand in front of the transparisteel window.

"You've done well, Senator Organa," Padmé compliments. "I expected nothing less from you, but you surprised me all the same."

Leia does not let her surprise at the sudden change to formality show, though she allows faint curiosity to slip into her voice. "I was unaware that we had met before, Empress Vader."

Padmé is quiet for a moment. "Once. You were very young, Senator Organa. You would not remember. But I have known you through HoloNet reports, and Bail Organa, who is my staunch supporter and good friend, wrote often about you. He raised you well."

You have no right to judge them, Leia thinks, and swallows her angry resentment behind a smile. At least Padmé hasn't a clue that one day the Republic will be avenged. "Thank you."

"It is one of my greatest regrets I could not be at Breha's funeral," Padmé says gravely. "The Galactic Empire was so disarrayed by the Palpatine's death--and many were attempting to capture his throne. It could have been much worse," she adds, as if to herself.

Including you, Leia thinks. You, who were once a Senator and my father's ally and close friend. You, who made sure Palpatine had only the most fragile grip on the Empire and needed just the death of a physically helpless old man for the Empire to dissolve. You, who stepped aside and supported Darth Vader when you could have, should have, restored the Republic.

You, who smile with such false light, but who only keeps the Empire together now because of fear; because of your claims that some sentient race from another galaxy seeks to terraform our planets.

Leia is very glad Padmé has her back turned at that moment and thus cannot see her expression. It would be impossible to hide her lie, and she struggles, truly struggles, to stop from choking because what she says next is both lie and sad truth. "She would have understood."

Do what Luke recommends, she tells herself. Breathe; let your mind flow free.

For an instant, she is immersed in the calm seas, with the winking lights all around the galaxy that she can almost feel--that taste of Luke, for instance, on Tatooine. She skirts around the darkness that is moving toward Coruscant. It is not real.

When she is calm again she opens her eyes, glad to see Padmé hasn't turned back and seen her with her eyes closed, face blank.

"Yes," Padmé murmurs very softly, so Leia wouldn't have heard if her ears weren't exceptionally sharp, "she would have." In a louder voice, Padmé asks, "How have your first few months as an Imperial Senator been?"

"Beyond my expectations," Leia replies ambiguously, watching Padmé and wondering when the visit became more than business. "The Republica 500 is beautiful, and I have not yet had reason to stay extended periods and discovered its comfort until now."

Now Padmé does turn around, a knowing look on her face, but she doesn't say anything.

"I have been able to sort through several matters on Imperial business and am glad of it," Leia volunteers cautiously.

"I am glad of it too," Padmé confesses with a faint smile. "The government could use more senators like you, Leia."

Back to intimate address, and a compliment to boot. Leia is a politician raised and she wonders what the Empress is angling at.

"It is an honor you think so highly of me, Empress Vader," Leia tells her, tacking on the bit of formality. She can't help adding, "You have done so much for the Empire and the galaxy I could never hope to match you in several lifetimes."

Padmé's eyes slide away, and her expression changes slightly. "It is less compliment than truth, especially for someone every bit loyal to the Empire as Viceroy Organa. Your father would be proud of you."

The Empress's gaze lands on the door, as if she is waiting.

"Do you have another appointment, Empress Vader?" Leia enquires.

Padmé stands up. A sudden flare of light makes her a silhouette, hiding her face. "Yes, in fact. I just received news that my husband tracked down one of the rebel bases and took care of it. He is returning soon."

Still, Leia thinks. Be still.

Still.

She must not form an expression.

Leia would not have risked coming so close to the Empress had the Emperor been ready to arrive. Her father has warned her not to go near him; she believes every word about Vader's mysterious powers, more so because Luke seems to be taking a similar path. If he can read minds... she does not want to think what will happen to the other bases she possesses intimate knowledge of.

Leia stares at the woman in front of her and wonders what it is like to have for a husband someone that knows your every thought, every emotion, every action. Nothing would remain a secret to him; any thoughts of dissent would kill you.

Recalling the actions Padmé must have undertaken during the downfall of Palpatine, the sly deceptions she must have used, Leia wonders: are you truly so devoted to him you have had no thought against him?

"I will look over your reports," Padmé is intoning.

Leia forces herself to answer. "Thank you. Especially," she adds, "twenty-six?"

Padmé looks at her for a long moment. "Of course."

The Senator rises, sketches a bow, and Padmé leads her out.

Leia ignores the guards that escort her to her speeder, though she smiles at them when it is time to leave.

"My Lady," the driver warns quickly the moment they are gone, "you have a passenger."

She does. Leia pokes her head in to see Winter, a childhood companion, friend, and adviser. She sits in the luxury, but without the grace and presence that has led to her being mistaken as the princess. Her sleek, silver hair is pristine and robes perfectly made, but her face is tight with worry.

Leia shuts the door and waits until the speeder is streaming through Coruscant's traffic before addressing her friend. "Did you expect me to be attacked in the Empress's office? Or parlor, as it is, where we held the conversation for some reason?"

"Yes, actually," Winter shoots back. "That, or be held by the Imperials for the report you presented them."

A chill runs down Leia's back, but she replies in an even tone, "The Empress has made her views very clear, but she believes in Father's loyalty, and mine. I don't think the Bright Face of the Galactic Empire would arrest me for showing her illicit dealings."

Winter stares at her. "It's my fault," she says, too grave for a young girl. "I did not realize it until I examined the copy: the new slicer forgot to alter one of the transactions. It links us--just us, thank the Force--to the rebel base that was just discovered! We have to leave before the empress gets the report."

Leia is frozen, but she forces her mind to work. Her thoughts whirl rapidly. I survived, Leia realizes. The Empress had already received news, but she had noticed nothing wrong with the data or I would be locked up.

She tells Winter this, and for an instant fear seizes Winter's face before vanishing into relief.

"She didn't notice," Winter breathes. "She must not have noticed the transaction at all, if it's as obvious as you think. We still have time."

"Which report was it?" Leia asks, a bad feeling burning the pit of her stomach.

Winter's reply makes Leia's world stop in a swirl of confusion.

"Number twenty-six."

- : -


End file.
